Dean Ambrose ignored the celebration in the ring. He'd allowed Bobby Lashley to slip under his radar and lost the InterContinental Title as a result. 'At least Rollins didn't take it back.'
As he got to his feet, he saw Seth Rollins begin walking up the ramp. The fans were cheering and encouraging him from the sidelines. As Seth walked further up the ramp, he straightened his shoulders and raised his head to acknowledge the fans.
Dean took one more look at Lashley, posing in the ring, then began his own walk towards the back. He ignored the boos from the fans as he contemplated his next move. As he walked through the gorilla position, he spotted Rollins ahead of him He grabbed a water bottle from a nearby table and followed.
As Seth turned town a corridor towards the locker rooms, he heard his name being called. He turned and saw Triple H walking towards him. "Hunter," he nodded.
Hunter handed him a water bottle. "Tough luck about that match, Seth." He slowly smiled. "But at least Ambrose doesn't have the title."
Seth uncapped the bottle and took a long drink. "No, he doesn't," he finally answered. "Not sure why Lashley's got the opportunity, though."
Hunter shrugged. "He'd earned it. It's a new year. New opportunities. It'll make the Rumble very interesting."
"It always is," Seth grinned. He kept the grin on his face until Hunter walked away. Then he capped the bottle and rolled it between his hands. "You want something, Ambrose?"
Dean stepped into view from around the corner. "Your head on a silver platter?"
Seth rolled his shoulders. "Any time you think you can take it."
Dean smirked. "Life's not so easy when Daddy's got a new favorite son, is it?"
Seth leaned against the wall. "That's a really dated reference. We parted ways when I slayed the King. Remember?"
Dean nodded. "I think Trips remembers, too."
"Well, here's something you should remember. bortaS bIr jablu'DI' reH QaQqu' nay'."
Dean snorted. "You tryin' to cough up a hairball or something?"
Seth smirked. "It's an old Klingon proverb. Revenge is a dish best served cold." He stepped away from the wall. "I've got more important things to take care of than you."
"Is that a fact?" Dean snarled, stepping closer. "Maybe I see it differently."
"Like that means anything." Seth mockingly smiled. "You really think I'm afraid of you, Moxley?"
"I'm thinking you should be," Dean growled.
"Why? All Moxley's good for is one random fight after another," Seth smirked again. "No planning. No forethought. Just violence. All your little verbal jabs at me…your game playing…that was Ambrose's influence. He knows how to make plans, not you, Moxley."
"Is that a fact?" Dean smirked in return.
Seth calmly nodded. "I give him credit. He knocked me off balance for a while. Rather than thinking and planning, I was reacting. That's changed now."
"And how did that work out for you tonight?" Dean chuckled.
"Just the way I planned for it to work."
Dean's blue eyes narrowed in response to Seth's answer and searched the calm face in front of him for the truth.
Seth got into Dean's face and stared him in the eyes. Lowering his voice, he continued, "No more split concentration between defending the belt and reacting to you. Now I can focus and concentrate on…priorities. And you don't have the belt, either." He stepped back. "And we both know, Moxley, that's what you wanted all along. Roman had a belt. I had a belt. Moxley wanted a belt, but not a shared belt. No no no…a belt of your own. You see, Dean would've been proud to be a tag team champion. With me or with Roman. But you…you, Moxley…nah, you're too selfish for that." He slowly smiled. "And now poor Moxley has nothing. No title. No influence that comes with being a champion. No allies. No brothers. Moxley. Has. Nothing." He stepped back again. "Now who's burned it down?" When Dean began growling under his breath, he continued, "And if Ambrose is half as smart as I think he is, he'll start kicking you out. You're costing him everything and bringing him nothing."
"You son of a …"
Dean's furious comment was halted by another voice.
"I'm ready to leave whenever you are, Seth."
Startled, Dean spun around to see Finn Balor standing behind him, suitcase leaning against one wall.
Seth calmly nodded. "Give me ten minutes." He walked away without looking at Dean.
"Ambrose," Finn greeted.
Dean snarled. "Lesnar's gonna eat you alive."
Finn laughed. "He's going to try. But he's going to find out that I'm really hard to digest."
Dean snorted. "You think The Beast is afraid of the Demon King?"
Finn shrugged, a picture of unconcern. "Perhaps he should be." Something flickered in the depths of his blue eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he added in a low quiet voice. When Dean's own blue eyes narrowed, he added in a normal voice. "But you're Seth's business for whenever he chooses to deal with you." He grabbed the handle of his suitcase and started down the hall towards Seth's locker room. "Unless, of course, you make it otherwise." He smiled over his shoulder. "Good night, Ambrose."
Dean watched for a few seconds then walked away towards his own locker room. He needed to decide on his next move.
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'Really sorry about the match tonight. For both of you. Hate that the belt now belongs to Lashley. But you guys looked great out there. Both fighting against each other and fighting together against Lashley…even if that's not what either of you want to hear.'
Roman Reigns sent the message to both his brothers then grinned.
'I was yelling for the two of you to powerbomb Lashley's ass. Or Rush's. Sooooo disappointed.'
Roman added a couple of crying emojis to the second message and sent it as well.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Seth had just finished zipping his suitcase closed when his phone buzzed. He read Roman's message and laughed then quickly responded.
'Rush is Kevin's chew toy, Roman. I'm not going to break Kevin's toy before he gets a chance to gnaw on it.'
He slipped his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and grabbed his suitcase handle. As he left the locker room, he wondered if Dean had picked up on what he'd told Moxley and would start cooperating.
He returned Finn's grin as the two men walked down the corridor towards the exit.
'Probably not,' Seth silently admitted. Ambrose was a stubborn bastard.
But Seth Rollins was a patient man.